


When Caelum comes to AIM

by Eipthor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Rigel Black Series - murkybluematter
Genre: F/M, Humor, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eipthor/pseuds/Eipthor
Summary: Archie gains new perspective on his cousin.Not a new work, moving over my works from the ff.net forum
Relationships: Arcturus "Archie" Black/Hermione Granger, one-sided Harriet Potter | Rigel Black/Caelum Lestrange
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Appreciation





	When Caelum comes to AIM

Archie had never liked Caelum. It was a long standing mutual loathing that had begun at age six at Grandmother Walburga's funeral. Caelum had remarked on the crookedness of his cravat and the rumpled and muddied knees of his robes from when he'd slipped in the rain walking to the gravesite, then fairly yanked at his limbs and neck in his hurried corrections. Archie remarked on the crookedness of his face and made his corrections with a nearby plate of eclairs. Caelum dodged quickly enough to spare his features, though at the expense of the front and left shoulder of his robes.

Archie and Caelum had their routine down to a science. Caelum would spew sharp and snotty words from his sharp and snotty face and Archie would refrain from punching him in it when there were witnesses around. It was a solid arrangement that worked to the satisfaction of everyone involved.

Now that strategy was failing him. Lestrange had come to America, to his school. The master he was studying under and Archie's potions professor were apparently old friends and now Archie was stuck avoiding Caelum on campus for a month.

It was strange. He had to ignore his familial instincts to act less than familial to anyone he and his father shared blood with. Archie didn't know the entirety of Harry and Lestrange's relationship, but he knew they had some sort of potions related bond that meant they were supposed to be friendly with one another. What was friendly with Lestrange even like? Did they have to smile at one another? Did Lestrange even know how to smile? And what if Lestrange asked about free brewing? Archie had tried his best to understand his cousin's enthusiasm for the new field she'd discovered, but most of what she said about magic came across as utter nonsense, so in the end he'd smiled long and memorized the bits he thought sounded good in case someone asked. It had worked well enough with his professors. Most decent brewers just pretended they understood what he was talking about, rather than admit to being outdone by a child. If someone came back for seconds, he just rambled through contradictory notions and made up terms with a helpful and condescending expression until they eventually gave up and left.

But that wouldn't work with Lestrange. He was half way through learning the process and would notice when what he said had nothing to do with whatever he and Harry had been working on.

So Archie began a strategy of tactical avoidance. He lasted all of a week ducking behind corners and setting Hermione on him with her encyclopedic knowledge of obscure healing potions, before being cornered in a clearing on the way back from Herbology with no trees to hide behind, nor students to spring into gripping conversation with, nor classes to pretend to be late to.

So Archie stood with his blankest Harrylike expression and watched his impending doom approach.

It was a surreal sensation, standing there blandly, curdling inside, watching as Lestrange carried on the entire conversation on his own, schizophrenically switching between moods and reading Archie's responses on his stone face. Lestrange was cool and aloof, feigning surprise and disinterest in Archie's appearance at the school he attended nine months of the year. What a dull coincidence to have run into each other after Lestrange had been fairly stalking him for the better part a week. He bragged about his potion success and his recent travels. He pried ravenously for more clues as to Harry's brewing technique which was amusing, but sometimes only mildly diverting and other times of some minor import, if mostly useless and unrefined. He'd raved about his success with her color change potion, having worked on it for months, but only briefly in his spare time for he was quite too busy for Harry. He'd twice sorted out Archie's robes, scolding on the importance of appearance. He'd asked after Archie's health, casually and noncommittally as any acquaintance would. He mocked everything from his robes, to the various friends he'd seen Harry with, to the restaurants he frequented. Hermione was of thoroughly adequate assistance, given the limited options in America. The food here was awful. Archie was wholly negligent and negligible in all things though particularly his letters.

And Archie just stood there, nodding occasionally, and offering up soft and hopefully mysterious smiles at moments when he thought Harry might do the same. Lestrange talked at him for over two hours as Archie quietly guided them to dinner, then up to his dorm where he finally excused himself for the night.

He found this strategy of quiet observation served him quite well over the coming weeks. Lestrange would carve up to him and yank him into whatever direction he wanted them to go (often in the opposite of friends and Hermione and classes to the irritation of all) and Archie would walk and hmm along to the various nonsense Lestrange was gripped with at the moment. Archie would sit quietly and study as Lestrange bustled and brewed around him, brushing against his side and adjusting and readjusting Archie's robes.

In those three weeks Archie learned more about his cousin than he'd ever bothered or cared to. It was strange. Lestrange walked and talked and hmmed and hawed in exactly the same ways as he always did with Archie. Still snide and condescending. But it was all so different. He lounged about Archie like a cat, constantly gripping at him, urgent and uncaring, as though he wanted it over but so frequently that he clearly didn't mind as much has he pretended. He was moody and awful, flying between rankled by his presence to thoroughly pleased, especially as he'd begun to snark back. Lestrange was very lonely. Harry was possibly his only friend. And Lestrange seemed thoroughly and unknowingly in love with her.

And Archie didn't know what to do with that. Because Harry was clearly good for his cousin, and Lestrange had been almost entirely bearable these past two weeks, if not enjoyable at times. But he was still very much a prat, and rude, and not good enough for Harry, and not what he thought she needed.

So on Lestrange's last day, he met with Hermione on a bench under one of the trees on the grounds. The dirigible plums were just in season and were beginning to float about. Hermione had been cross with him of late for her frequent abandonment in favor of his new and rude friend. He'd spent the morning earning back her favor and just as Lestrange turned around the corner, he kissed her. They had before, but only quietly and secretly, in unspoken corners after late and tired nights studying. She squeaked a bit, then blushed and poked his chest and smiled her too big and too straight smile. It was distractingly lovely.

Lestrange sputtered to the side and made awkward and quiet farewells, and Archie was surprisingly honest in the fondness of his goodbye. Though old habits died hard and in secret places inside himself he was enjoying his cousin's expression, better than any he'd wrung from him before, save perhaps in their initial eclair encounter. He felt a bit bad, as it would be Harry who would have to deal with whatever moody delayed reaction Lestrange came to once he was fully able to process the kiss, but it would keep the prat off his almost sister for a good while with any luck. Archie was blindly, dazedly happy as Lestrange walked away.

Then Hermione plucked a plum and flicked it, drifting to his temple before pointedly concentrating on the book before her. His smile got all the bigger.


End file.
